The Middle Ages: From Fasting to Feasting

In contrast to the few non-specific references to eating in Anglo-Saxon literature, medieval literature, particularly that dating from the later Middle Ages (14^th and 15^th centuries),  contains far more references to food.   Fish, stews, pies, bread and sweetmeats, all washed down with ale and wine, are scattered through the pages of many texts from the period.   

 A medieval feast, from Les Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, an early 15^th century French book of hours 

The Church played a prominent role in Medieval England.  That is not to say that everyone believed in God and attended church every Sunday, but the year was shaped by the various high days and holy days of the liturgical year, and the Church made its presence felt in the practices and rituals of everyday life.  This was clearly seen in food practices of the period, which are then reflected in contemporary literature.    Approximately one third of the year was defined as a period of fasting, which meant severe restrictions on what could be eaten: this included Wednesdays, Fridays (in commemoration of Christ being crucified on Good Friday) and Saturdays; Advent (the season of approximately four weeks that leads up to Christmas) and Lent (the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter).  Meat could not be consumed at these times, though fish could, and in Advent and Lent it was customary to refrain from eating all animal products, including eggs and dairy.  These restrictions account for the eating practices of Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day), the day before Ash Wednesday, when pancakes were – and still continue to be –  made as a way of using up all the dairy products in the house before the 40 days of Lent.  

Complaints about the constraints of a Church-regulated medieval diet, particularly for those who lived away from the coastline and thus had little, if any, access to fresh fish, are expressed in a 15^th century poem, “Farewell Advent” by James Ryman, who is thought to have been a Franciscan friar from Canterbury.   In the poem the speaker complains about the hardships he and his fellow-humans have endured during Advent.  They have been going “hungrye to bed”, and “For lak of mete... were nighe [nearly] dead”.  Deprived of “puddings” and “souse [pickled pork]”, and since “There was no freshe fishe, ferre ne nere”, and “Salt fish and salmon was too dere”, their diet has been a paltry one.  The speaker refers to “stinking fishe”, “plaices thin, / Nothing on them but bone and skin”, “browne” “musty” bread and “thin” and “soure” ale.  That being the case, it’s no surprise that, despite his clerical status, Ryman cannot wait to see the back of Advent and welcome in the festivities of Christmas.  The full poem can be accessed at:  http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/fare_wele_aduent_cristemas_is_cum.htm

 

However, in other literature from the period references to fish are far more positive.  

 Medieval net fishing

In the best-known English text of the Middle Ages, Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (c.1380s – 1400), one of the storytelling pilgrims, the Franklin, who is described as an Epicurean, keeps bream and pike in a fishpond (for personal consumption).  Pike, a fish rarely eaten nowadays, is also referred to as a foodstuff in The Book of Margery Kempe (c. 1430s).  This book, often described as the first autobiography in English, recounts the later years of an East Anglian wife and mother, from Kings Lynn, and her desire to pursue a religious life in the world, as opposed to within the constraints of a convent, a decision that often set her at odds with the religious establishment of the day.  She records that she was invited to dinner “on a fish day at a good man’s table” and was “served with various fish, such as red herring and good pike” (trans. Barry Windeatt, Penguin Books, 1985, p. 288).  And in fact fish play a central role in the Christmas festivities of the late 14^th century chivalric romance Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (about which there will be more in my next post).  Fish are served up in a myriad of ways at the Green Knight’s court.   The original text reads: 

........................................................and fele kyn fische3,

Summe baken in bred, summe brad on þe glede3,

Summe soþen, summe in sewe sauered with spyces,

And ay sawses so sle3e þat þe segge liked.  (ll. 890-893, from W. R. J. Barron’s edition, published by Manchester University Press, 1974)

This translates as: “and many kinds of fish, / Some baked in pie-crust (or bread), some grilled on the embers, / Some poached (or boiled), some in stew flavoured with spices, and all with sauces so skilfully made as to please the knight.” 

ROASTED SALMON IN SAUCE

As luck would have it, I found in one of my old university text books (The Oxford Book of Late Medieval Verse and Prose, ed. Douglas Gray [Oxford University Press, 1988]), a medieval fish recipe, taken from a late 15^th century manuscript: “Sawmon Irosted in sauce” (Roasted salmon in sauce).  The original recipe reads:

Take and cutte a sawmon rownde in peces.  Roste hem apon a gredeyrne.  And take wyne and poudere of canell (cinnamon), and drawe hit thorowe a streynour; mince onyons smale, and do togeder, and let boyll.  Then take venegur or verjus, and poudere gynger, salte, and do therto.  Then ley the sawmon in a dyshe, and poure the seryppe all aboute, and serve it furthe.  (page 134)

As you can see, medieval recipe writers were far from precise in their ingredients (no measurements) and in their instructions (no timings)!  But this is my version of it, with a little more precision than the original version.  

Ingredients (per person):

1 salmon fillet

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 shallot (chopped finely)

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

60ml red wine

1 tsp balsamic vinegar

¼ teaspoon ground ginger

Salt and pepper

Method:

Brush the salmon fillet with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil, season lightly with salt and pepper, and then cook both sides evenly, either in a griddle pan or under a hot grill.  Warm the other tablespoon of olive oil in a small saucepan, and then fry the chopped shallot until soft and translucent.  Add the cinnamon, fry briefly, then stir in the red wine and bring to the boil.  Reduce to a simmer, then add the vinegar, ground ginger and salt; continue to simmer until the liquid has reduced by one third.  Pour over the salmon; I served it accompanied by mushrooms and spinach (stir-fried in olive oil).  

An Anglo-Saxon miscellany

Just a couple of recipes to finish off my gourmet trip back in time to Anglo-Saxon England, before I move onto the Middle Ages in my next post.  The first one is taken from The British Museum Cookbook by Michelle Berriedale-Johnson (London: British Museum publications, 1987), an interesting collection of recipes from different periods of world history.  A straightforward and tasty recipe that uses barley as the central carbohydrate, it probably represents the type of dish eaten on a special occasion in a typical Anglo-Saxon household – the problem of many early recorded recipes is that they do not necessarily represent what the general population would have eaten, but rather what the nobility and court ate (as published cookbooks were few and far between and emanated from the kitchens of wealthy households; moreover there are no existing recipes written down from the Anglo-Saxon period).  The typical Anglo-Saxon peasant diet is likely to have been mainly vegetarian and composed of bread, beans, peas and root vegetables typically cooked into a ‘briw’ (a soup, broth or stew).  But this would have been, depending on availability, occasionally supplemented by cheese, fish, poultry and more rarely by red meats.[1]  Berriedale-Johnson’s dish is a barley and vegetable ‘briw’ but with the addition of chicken (though she suggests replacing the chicken with veal, hare [if you can source one] or rabbit [though rabbits were not native to England until after the Norman Conquest]). 

CHICKEN STEW WITH HERBS AND BARLEY: Faithfully following the listed ingredients the first time produced a delicious, but rather bland-looking stew (too much beige!), so the second time I garnished the finished dish with parsley which added a welcome touch of colour. 

Ingredients (serves 2): A knob of butter 500g chicken 2 washed and trimmed leeks, thickly sliced 1 clove garlic, chopped finely 60g barley 300ml water 1 tablespoon red or white wine vinegar 1 bay leaf Salt & pepper 5 fresh chopped sage leaves (or ½ tbsp dried sage) Parsley (to garnish)

Method:

Melt the butter in a heavy pan and fry the chicken with the leeks and garlic until the vegetables are slightly softened and the meat is lightly browned. 

Add barley, water, vinegar, bay leaves and seasoning.  Bring to the boil, cover and simmer gently for 1 – 1 ½ hours until the meat is tender and falling from bone.

Add the sage and cook for a few more minutes. 

Adjust seasoning to taste and serve garnished with parsley.  

MEAD SAUCE (to accompany cold roast pork)

Having created my mead-infused slow-roasted pork – see http://pagetoplate.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/an-anglo-saxon-banquet-tucking-in-with.html - I also made a mead sauce (following the principles of a wine sauce) which went very well with cold roast pork. 

Melt a knob of butter in a small saucepan.  Fry a small finely-chopped shallot until translucent.  Add a finely chopped clove of garlic and fry to soften – don’t allow to burn.  Then pour in a glassful of mead and simmer to reduce.  Serve with slices of the cold pork.

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[1] Information from “Food in the Anglo-Saxon Period”, Recipewise, http://recipewise.co.uk/food-in-the-anglo-saxon-period.

King Alfred Comes To Tea

Anglo-Saxon kings probably didn’t do much cooking and one of the best-known stories about Alfred the Great (849 – 899AD) recounts a disaster in the kitchen.  Never mind the fact that he successfully defended his kingdom, Wessex, against Viking invasion, that he united the English and that he is the only English monarch to have ever been given the epithet, “the Great”; no, what everyone knows about Alfred is that he burnt the cakes! 

The legend, which is recorded in a Latin text, the Annals of St Neots, goes that Alfred was on the run in Somerset after a Viking attack on Chippenham.[1]  He and his men had resorted to begging for food from peasants, including a swineherd’s wife who gave Alfred some food, but put him in charge of watching the cakes she was making.  But Alfred let them burn. 

As the historian Lucy Worsley explains, there are a number of interpretations of this story – which may or may not have actually happened: the cakes may be a metaphor for Wessex, which had been destroyed by the Vikings when Alfred wasn’t paying attention; or it could be read as a story of humility: even the King wasn’t above helping a peasant (and also making a mistake).[2] 

With no details about the cakes that Alfred burnt – and in fact the Latin text calls them “panes” which usually refers to bread – I have just devised a recipe to celebrate our great King, rather than one with any historical veracity.  To be true to the spirit of the times I have used honey as the sweetening agent, since sugar does not appear to have come into England until the Norman Conquest (and even then it was a luxury foodstuff which would have been too expensive for the majority of the population).  But this recipe is, I feel, definitely fit for an Anglo-Saxon king; just don’t let the cakes burn!  

King Alfred’s apple, honey and walnut cakes

Ingredients (makes 10-12 cupcakes) 30g unsalted butter 60g (2 heaped tablespoonfuls) clear, runny honey 2 medium-sized eating apples (grated) 2 eggs, beaten 150g plain flour 1 heaped teaspoon baking powder ½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda 2 handfuls of roughly chopped walnuts Pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 190C /G5.

Put the honey and butter in a pan on a low heat to melt, then remove and set aside for a few minutes to cool slightly. 

Mix together the flour, baking powder and bicarbonate of soda in a bowl, and then stir in the chopped walnuts.

Stir the grated apple into the melted butter and honey, and then mix in the beaten egg mixture. 

Add the wet mixture to the dry ingredients.  Mix sufficiently to blend but don’t overbeat.

Line cake or muffin trays with paper cases and fill them about two-thirds full of the mixture.

Put in the oven to cook for 20-25 minutes.  Leave to cool in the tins for 5 minutes and then transfer, in their paper-cases, to a wire rack to continue cooling. 

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[1] The text is available online at:  https://archive.org/stream/asserslifekinga00stevgoog#page/n178/mode/2up  

[2] http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/hampshire/hi/front_page/newsid_8674000/8674814.stm

An Anglo-Saxon Banquet: Tucking in with Beowulf

Anglo-Saxon literature (ie. literature written in the earliest recognizable form of English between approximately the 7th century AD and the Norman Conquest of 1066) provides little material for the interested cook.  Emphasising, as it does, the heroic deeds of men, little space is devoted to the lives of women or to the domestic sphere.  

Beowulf, the best-known literary text from this period (which survives in a sole manuscript probably from the 11^th century, although the poem itself could have been composed up to 500 years earlier), tells of the heroic feats of Beowulf, a Geatish prince (the Geats were the tribe who occupied the Southern part of Sweden).  Hearing of the devastation that is being wrought on the Geats’ neighbours, the Danes, by the monster Grendel, Beowulf decides to act.  He travels with a small group of men to the land of the Danes, where after having been welcomed by the Danish king, Hrothgar, he fights and defeats Grendel.  When Grendel’s mother seeks revenge for her son’s death by killing a Danish noble, Beowulf seeks her out in her underwater lair and fights her to the death.  Following these victories which bring peace and safety to the Danes, Beowulf returns to Geatland where, in time, he becomes king and rules successfully for more than 50 years.  But his prosperous reign is disrupted by a dragon that begins tormenting the Geats.  Despite his age, Beowulf decides to fight the dragon; whilst he is successful in killing the dragon, he is himself fatally wounded in the encounter but goes to his death as a hero and saviour of his nation.  

Whilst no mention is made of any specific food or meals in Beowulf, the warriors do spend significant periods of time drinking and feasting.  At the centre of their society is the mead-hall, the building where the community eats and drinks, and where some of them even sleep.  The narrator notes that the Danes’ mead-hall was built under the orders of the king, Hrothgar, following great success in battle:

It came into his [Hrothgar’s] mind that he would instruct men to build a greater mead-hall than the children of men had ever heard of, and therein he would distribute to young and old everything which God had given him...(lines 67 – 72; p. 37 – all quotations taken from Michael Swanton’s translation for Manchester University Press, 1978)

The hall is named Heorot, which means hart or stag, a symbol of nobility at this time.  It is the place where the king bestows gifts, where there is music and singing, and it is the place that Grendel attacks because he cannot endure the sound of “loud rejoicing in the hall” (line 89; p. 39).  The mead-hall thus functions symbolically as an image of success and of community, an image that the embittered and solitary Grendel seeks to destroy.  

All the eating and drinking in Beowulf takes place communally in the mead-hall.  No mention is made of the food consumed, though the many references to feasts and banquets suggest food is in abundance.  But it is the drinking that takes centre-stage; beer, wine and mead are all mentioned in Beowulf.  But the fact that the building is called a mead hall suggests the primacy of this particular alcoholic drink.  Mead, an ancient drink, first referred to in Indian writings from c. 1700-1100 BC, is made by fermenting a honey and water solution.  It is described in Beowulf as “the sweet drink” (line 496, p. 57), and the mead drinking takes place communally and in a ceremonial manner.  On Beowulf’s arrival at Heorot, Hrothgar’s queen, Wealhtheow, is the cup-bearer and, “mindful of etiquette” (line 614; p. 63), she offers the cup first to her husband, Hrothgar, then to the Danish warriors, before carrying it to the guest of honour, Beowulf.  When Beowulf returns safely to his country following his victories in Geatland, there is feasting at the court of his uncle, the king Hygelac, and Hygelac’s wife “moved through the spacious building with mead-cups, cared for the people, carried flagons of drink” (lines 1980-82; p. 129).  

The few references to food and drink in Beowulf paint a picture of a society where eating and drinking are communal activities which serve to bind together its members and to integrate new-comers and visitors.  What is eaten and drunk is of less importance than the symbolic value accorded to food and drink.

MEAD-INFUSED SLOW-ROASTED PORK

The many references to mead-drinking in Beowulf inspired me to try my hand at cooking with it.  Having read that honey was used to glaze meat in the Anglo-Saxon period, I thought that the honey in the mead would provide a tasty complement to pork.  The availability of mead does depend on where you live; it doesn’t seem to be readily available in supermarkets, and it also seems to be easier to find it in the South West.  I bought it from Gerry’s in Old Compton Street (W1D 4UW) - http://www.gerrys.uk.com/index.aspx - which seems to stock every type of alcoholic drink you can think of.  But if you can’t find it, or don’t want to splash out on a whole bottle for one recipe (though it’s a nice drink to have on its own!), I would suggest just using some honey instead.  

The first time I made this I only marinated the pork for a couple of hours; the next time I tried overnight and it really made a difference.  The honey flavours of the mead had permeated the pork; that, coupled with the slow-roasting, led to a very tender, moist joint.  The only downside I found was that after all that marinating in liquid it was difficult to get crackling on the pork; I did dry off and salt the fat before roasting the pork, but it still didn’t really come off.  But I think the flavours of the pork make this a worthwhile way to try out cooking meat. 

Ingredients (serves 4):

1 kilogram pork joint (I used pork belly)

2 garlic cloves, chopped finely

2 sprigs of rosemary

2 bay leaves

100 ml mead

100 ml olive oil

1 tablespoon of juniper berries, lightly crushed (optional)

Salt and pepper

Marinate the pork for a few hours – ideally overnight – in a marinade composed of all the other ingredients listed. 

Roast at 150C for 2 ½ hours, and then raise the heat to 220C for 20 minutes.  Alter timings depending on the size of the joint. 

AN ACCOMPANIMENT: BARLEY, LEEK AND MUSHROOM RISOTTO

I had friends around for dinner to try out the pork and made a barley risotto as an accompaniment.  Obviously potatoes would not have been available in Anglo-Saxon England; nor would rice.  But grains such as barley would have been widely eaten.  There is a renewal of interest in grains such as barley, rye and spelt nowadays – at least partly owing to increased gluten-intolerance amongst people –and pearl barley is readily available.  This ‘risotto’ makes a tasty and authentic enough accompaniment to the pork.  This could be cooked as a main meal in its own right; perhaps just add some grated Parmesan at the end in that case. 

Ingredients (serves 4 as a side-dish, or 2 as a main dish): 1 medium-onion (finely chopped) 1 clove of garlic (finely chopped) 2 leeks (sliced) 100g chestnut mushrooms (chopped) 150g pearl barley Water / vegetable stock (500ml should be sufficient) Walnuts to garnish (optional) Grated parmesan (if being made as a main course)

Fry the onion in 1 tablespoon oil until translucent.  Add the chopped garlic and cook briefly to soften.  Add the leeks and mushrooms and cook until they begin to soften (5-10 minutes).  Add the pearl barley and stir around so it gets a good coating of oil.  Then begin adding the stock or water bit by bit, stirring frequently (as if making a risotto).  When the pearl barley is cooked – it should be tender, but with some bite, and will take 20 - 25 minutes – check for seasoning, adding pepper, and salt if necessary (the amount will depend on whether you have used water or stock).  Garnish with walnuts if so desired. If you are making this as a main course, then stir in the grated Parmesan at this point.